The Winchesters'
by Flying With The Wolves
Summary: A crossover AU where the Winchester brothers own and operate a small diner frequented by AU versions of all sorts of characters from all sorts of fandoms. Fandoms included so far: SPN, DW, Sherlock, Teen Wolf, Merlin. Focuses mainly on the Winchester boys. T for Dean's naughty mouth. May change later depending on where this goes. Plot line not yet evident. Possible Sam/Amy Pond.


**Author's Notes: Blah this first chapter went better in my head. Anyways, this is my crossover AU focused mostly on the Winchester brothers who run the diner 'The Winchesters'' that was started by their parents. There will be a plot later on to this story if all goes according to plan. Any questions, just ask. Also, I may explain things I missed in the Author's Notes so if you get confused at any point in the future, just skim them.**

_**Warning: This story will be updated irregularly, if at all. Chapters could be anywhere from days to weeks apart. Don't expect regular updates and please don't be disappointed if this story goes on a long hiatus!**_

**(Not that you would be because I'm a bad writer and this story sounded great in my head but not so great on the screen...)**

Dean Winchester scrubbed furiously at a stubborn spot on the counter. He sighed as he lifted his rag and discovered it was resisting all attempts at coming off. He threw down the rag in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. It was near closing time and he was getting awfully tired. He looked around the empty diner and wished Sam would let him hang up the closed sign. However, Sam was a stickler for punctuality so Dean had to wait out the last half an hour in near silence.

He disappeared into the back for a quick beer and didn't hear the bell jingle as a latecomer stumbled into the diner. They plunked down on the empty stool and had to keep a firm hand on the counter to avoid falling over. They buried their head in their hands on the counter, not entirely sure where they were or what they were doing anymore.

Dean came back out of the back, gulping his beer, and nearly spit it out when he saw who was sitting on the stool. "Molly?" he asked in disbelief, pulling her head gently out of her hands. "What are you doing here? It's nearly eleven!" As he peered into her face, his heart sank. He knew exactly what was going on, and he didn't like it.

"I just went down to the pub and I guess I drank a little too much." She hiccuped and swayed dangerously on the spot. Dean held tighter to her hands, knowing she was drunk and being glad she came here first.

"Molly, why did you go to a bar in the first place?" She seemed to be struggling to focus and Dean had to remind himself that this was Molly. He had never seen her drunk in all the long years they had known each other and it was unnerving him.

"Oh, Sherlock said some things to me. I just thought that going to get a pint was better than waiting around for him." Dean placed her hands gently on the counter before moving around it so that he could get behind her.

"Up you get." He said, pulling her upwards by the waist. She asked some vague questions and he informed her that they were going upstairs. She held on tightly to his arm for support. He took her through the back and up the flight of stairs that led to the apartment the Winchester brothers shared. Molly was babbling about how Sherlock took her for granted and Dean nodded and commented every once in a while.

After a few agonizingly long minutes, Dean put Molly Hooper down onto his bed. She gave a very quiet hiccup before pulling his pillow to her face. Dean pulled off her shoes and her jacket, leaving them by the door where she would surely find them in the morning. He then freed the blankets from under her before wrapping them up to her shoulders. She smiled and muttered something unintelligible.

"Good night Molly." He pushed a strand of hair back from her head and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. He closed the door softly behind him, shaking his head. The Sherlock situation was getting out of control. As if Molly's constant worry of trying to appease him wasn't enough, now there was this. Dean knew he would have to speak to one or both of them.

He jumped back down the steps, grabbing himself some slightly cold fries, before resuming his watch over the empty diner. He watched over the deserted place, entertaining himself by watching a spider in the corner of the ceiling, before Sam came back from checking inventory and told him it was time to close up shop. Dean immediately flipped the open sign and began shutting off the lights. He had finished the rest just before Molly arrived. He made his way cautiously through the darkened kitchen before finding his way up the stairs.

He went into the kitchen to grab himself another beer where he ran into his brother again. "Hey, what's going on?" Sam pulled his face into a confused expression. Dean glanced down at the beer in his hand.

"Me. Beer. Casa Erotica. Any more questions?" He began to move past his brother towards the living room.

"No, dude." Sam stopped his brother with a strong hand on his shoulder. "I mean, why is Molly Hooper passed out in your bed?" Sam raised an eyebrow as though to ask if something was going on between the two of them.

"Get your head out of the gutter, Sammy." He gave his brother's head a mock slap. "She was drunk and I figured it would be best if she wasn't out on her own. We can keep an eye on her here."

"Drunk?" That didn't sound like the Molly Sam knew. He remembered a little neighbor girl who always wanted to have tea parties with her less than social neighbor boys. He remembered a Molly that snuck them into her house when their father was in some angry drunken stupor and Uncle Bobby wasn't around. He remembered a Molly that had made him soup when he had pneumonia. This did not sound like his Molly.

"It's that Sherlock dude again. I think she was getting a little sick of having her heart broken." Dean took a swig of beer, thinking of how much he was going to kill that dick. Sam gave an angry snort, thinking along much the same lines as his brother. The two parted ways for the night, each wrapped up in their own plots to murder Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Molly Hooper was very late. She had woken up in Dean Winchester's bed, of all places, before discovering that she was ten minutes late for work. At this point she got ready as fast as she could, grabbing some pills from the medicine cabinet, and trying to run past Dean who caught her by the arm. She tried to break away but he was much stronger than her.

"Woah, there." He slowed her. "Slow down. Are you feeling alright?" She nodded and assured him, trying to get out of the diner so that she could go to work. "What do you remember from last night?" He asked curiously.

"I was going to fetch something for Sherlock. After that, it's all a blur." she admitted. She struggled against his grasp. "I'm late for work, could you please let me go?" Dean nodded and warned her not to visit any more pubs. Molly practically sprinted out of the door, knowing she would get an earful for being so tardy.

Dean shook his head as he watched Molly trying valiantly to hail a cab. He then turned his attention back to the diner which was getting a very slow start this morning. It was about seven and there were only two tables occupied. One held a very odd couple consisting of a woman with very bouncy blonde hair and a man with a silly looking bow tie.

"Can I get you two anything?" Dean asked, his pen poised over his paper.

"Yes, two specials please." said the man putting down the menu.

"Well aren't you good looking." said the woman, catching sight of Dean for the first time.

"I've been told so." He gave her a devilish grin which she returned. Dean knew this woman would be a match for him any day but the man interrupted.

"River!" The man looked slightly hurt. The woman, River, gave breathy laugh and kissed his cheek across the table.

"It's okay sweetie, I still like you best." The man looked relieved and after Dean was sure the moment was over he received confirmation of his order before moving to relay the information to his brother. He carried the order of eggs to the other table and heard the bell to the diner jingle as it opened.

"Welcome to the Winchesters'." He greeted the red head who was radiating happiness. She bounced over to the counter stool that Molly had occupied the night before and began glancing over the menu above her. "Can I get you anything, sweetheart?" He asked, glancing into the kitchen to see how Sam was coming with the two specials.

"Just a salad. I'm dieting to fit into my wedding dress." The woman seemed desperate that everyone would notice the ring on her finger as she waved it around nonchalantly. Dean smiled, feeling her excitement.

"Getting married?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Well, congratulations." She thanked him and he went to relay her order to Sam who had it whipped up in under a minute since he had much practice in making it for himself. "Here you go, sweetheart."

"Thank you. You know, the wedding is tomorrow already." She burst out, waving her fork around in excited expectation.

"Is it?" Dean asked, knowing he was about to get himself into a very long very one sided conversation but he didn't mind. One of the things about serving the food and taking the orders was listening to people talk. And honestly, most of the time, he didn't mind at all. He didn't lead much of a life outside the diner and this was his way of keeping up with the outside world.

The bell jingled and in walked a blonde woman. Dean excused himself from the red haired woman who said her name was Donna before making his way over to the girl.

"Hey Jo." he greeted, taking the box from her hands. "What have we got here?"

"Apple, rhubarb, and some peach cobbler." She said, moving around him to go towards the kitchen. "What have you got? I'm starving." Dean hefted the box to the back and began to unload the desserts they would begin serving in the afternoon. "Hey Sam." She greeted the mammoth who was finishing the specials.

"Hey Jo. How's your mom?" He handed the plates to his brother who disappeared out the door to deliver them to the customers. When he returned, the two of them were laughing at some joke he hadn't been privy to.

"Did I miss something?" he asked curiously. They shook their heads and Jo began to throw together a sandwich out of various ingredients in the kitchen.

"So, how's business?" She asked, leaning back on the counter and taking a large bite of the sandwich.

"Slow. But now that fall's here I think business will start to pick up. We have a couple of college guys that like to come in here." Dean observed.

"Interesting." They continued talking about business in general and Jo was surprised to hear about Molly's incident last night. They talked about it briefly before Jo said she had to get back to work. Dean escorted out the kitchen door and into the main part of the diner. She stopped at the door, her hand pausing on the handle. She glanced back at Dean.

"I'll stop by after work to help with the afternoon rush." She offered, smiling.

"That's fine. We can handle it." Dean excused, not wanting her to over work herself.

"It's no trouble. I'll see you then." She disappeared out the door before her could protest further. Shaking his head and grinning, Dean moved back behind the counter. Jo Harvelle.

"She really likes you." Donna observed between bites of lettuce. Dean's head whipped around so fast that for a moment he was afraid he had given himself whiplash.

"What?" He had on a confused expression, unsure of what she was trying to imply.

"Oh, come on, it's obvious! She has a huge crush on you." Donna had noticed her facial expressions the moment she had walked in the door. It was completely obvious and she wondered how this bloke could have missed it.

"No, no, no." Dean waved his hand in the air as if he could brush away the possibility. "Jo and I have known each other since the nursery. She's like my little sister. She used to steal my army men and I would pull her hair." Dean tried explaining how they had a brother and sister relationship and Donna just made a face that clearly said she wasn't buying any of it.

"Whatever you say." She held up her hands in mock defeat before handing him a bill. "Keep the change." She stood from the stool before Dean looked down at the money. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he say she had left early a fifty dollar tip.

"Ma'am I can't accept this." He waved the bill in the air, trying to catch her attention.

"Course you can! You earned it!" She began pushing the door open when Dean stopped her again.

"Hey, good luck tomorrow!" Donna grinned at him through the window before vanishing into the crowd. Dean whistled at the enormous tip in his hand before going to put the money for the meal into the register. Another jingle alerted him to a man walking into the diner. He came straight up to Dean, removing his sun glasses and tucking them into his pocket.

"I was wondering if I could book this place for a party tomorrow night." He asked, resting his hands on the table.

"Sure, how many people? How long you want it?" Dean pulled off a piece of paper from his notepad to make a note.

"A couple dozen and just from 8 to close." Dean scribbled down the information in earnest.

"What do you want for the main course?"

"What's good?" In response to this query, Dean pulled out two menus from beneath the counter and passed one to the gray haired man.

"Personally, I think out burgers are the best but people have been known to enjoy the rest of our sandwiches." Dean pointed out several of these on the menu and the man nodded, scanning the rest of it.

"Grilled chicken?" He wondered, pointing to it on the menu.

"My specialty." Dean let a proud smirk drift across his face for a moment. That chicken was one of the few things he prided himself on.

"Well, we'll have that then. Party is under the name of Lestrade. Would you like to be paid now?" He pulled out a wallet and began handing Dean the proper amount of cash. "Oh, and this is a surprise party, just so you know. I'm going to enjoy this!" Greg grinned as he walked backwards out the door, leaving a few last second comments for the Winchester.

Dean finished jotting down his notes before going to relate the information to his brother. Sam was a bit relieved that Dean would be the one cooking for this large party although he didn't say it. They discussed the matter for a while before beginning to get ready for the noon lunch rush.

* * *

"Hey kid!" A day after being booked by Lestrade, Dean brought a good-natured hand down on the shoulder of a younger boy who was grinning like crazy . "Good to see you made it back in one piece." He ruffled the black hair affectionately before shaking hands with the man beside him. "Good to see you out and about too."

Merlin was smiling like a mad man. The one of the only things about going back to school that he looked forward to was coming to the Winchesters'. His roommate, Arthur, wasn't as fond of the place but Merlin dragged him along anyways. Merlin had a soft spot for the diner and the boys that ran it.

"You kids grab a seat and I'll get you your usuals." Dean assured, gesturing to a table. The took their seats at the nearest table and Dean went to the kitchen to talk to his brother. "Hey, Merlin and Arthur just showed up." He jerked a thumb towards the dining area.

"Really?" Sam had a moderately surprised look on his face. "It's a bit early. Normally they don't come in until a couple weeks after school begins." He set the dishes back in their drying rack and moved over to the cabinet to pull out some sandwich bread.

"Maybe they got hungry." Dean said sarcastically. Sam's immediate reaction was to pull out his bitch face at which Dean grinned. "Alright, I'm going. Where's that order of chicken gone to?" He threw his gaze around the kitchen until Sam directed it and Dean put it out in front of the customer. "You have a nice day." He told the young woman, giving her a once over.

Another bell tinkled as the door swung open and Dean swung around in surprise. They sure were busier than usual. Two boys, about high school age, wandered in. One of them seemed familiar to Dean but he couldn't place where he'd seen him. They took seats at the counter and Dean moved behind it to ask for their orders.

"Yeah, two burgers please." Said the familiar looking boy. He had a crooked jaw and lots of dark brown hair.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Dean couldn't help but blurt out. The boy glanced up sharply as did his friend.

"Why, does he look familiar?" His friend asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, a bit." Dean thought about it a moment before shrugging. "Probably nothing." He disappeared into the back to grab some burgers. He glanced out at the two boys occasionally. The familiar looking one kept looking over his shoulder at the girl Dean had just served.

"He's crushing." Sam commented from the side as he followed Dean's gaze to the two boys.

"Does he look familiar to you?" Dean wondered. Sam was better with names and faces. Maybe he would know.

"Nope. Should he?" The boy didn't even seem vaguely familiar to the older Winchester.

"I don't know." The friend of the familiar boy said something to him and he glanced up at Dean who quickly moved out of their sight. After a few moments of scrambling around, he came up with their meal and left to drop off their food.

"You took my mom out for dinner." The familiar boy told him. Dean frowned before an image of the boy answering the door came up in his mind. He remembered his mother. Great kisser.

"Yeah I did." Dean affirmed, dropping off the food.

"I'm Scott McCall." He introduced himself, sticking out his hand. Dean shook it and the other friend stuck his head in.

"Stiles."

"Stiles? What kind of name is that?" Dean asked rudely.

"Dean." Sam interrupted, coming up behind him.

"What?" Dean asked, unaware he was being rude.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean, who is going to go and make the chicken for the party later." He nodded Dean away. Dean rolled his eyes and threw on his special cooking apron to get down to work. "Sorry about my brother. He can be a dick sometimes." Sam apologized.

"Yeah, no kidding." Stiles agreed, munching on a fry.

"If you guys need anything, just ask." Sam assured them, moving back into the kitchen. His first course of action was to make a face at his brother.

"What?" Dean asked defensively. Sam just continued the look until Dean shrugged him off with a "Shut up."

The rest of the afternoon began to settle down as the students filed out of the little diner. Only a couple of people trickled in and they trickled out just as quickly. Dean spent the entire afternoon cooking up large quantities of chicken for the party while Sam took the orders. Soon enough, eight was about to arrive and they hung up a sign on the door to explain.

Lestrade arrived first and to the Winchesters' surprise he was followed in by Molly. "Hey, guys." She greeted, dropping her purse heavily onto the counter.

"What are you doing here, Molly?" Dean wondered, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Lestrade is my boss. I was invited..." She trailed off and Dean nodded in understanding.

"Does that mean that dick, what's his name, Sherlock, is going to be here?" Dean asked, knowing the answer would of course be yes.

"Don't call him that." Molly said quietly, looking down at her hands. Dean sensed he had struck a nerve and he patted her hands.

"Sorry. But he hasn't exactly been Merry to your Pippin lately." Both Molly and Sam gave him a surprised look and he shrugged uncomfortably. "What?"

"This party is for him." Molly informed them, confused as to how they didn't know.

"Great." Dean muttered under his breath.

"I'm going to go help Greg settle the entertainment." Molly scurried off towards Lestrade but Sam noted out of the corner of his eye that she didn't actually seemed that interested in what he was saying.

"Now that Sherlock is going to be here, I'm going to give him a piece of my friggin' mind." Dean turned his back to the counter and leaned on it.

"I'm with you on that one." Sam agreed, mirroring his brother's movements.

"I mean, who gave him the right to be such an asshole? Especially to Molly. I mean, come on man! Look at her!" They glanced over their shoulders at the innocent young woman who fiddled with the small butterfly necklace she was wearing. "She has a butterfly necklace, man." Dean breathed. "How could you even begin to be a dick to someone like that?"

"Well, I guess we'll find out when he gets here." Sam said, beginning to move out from behind the counter to talk to Greg about what kind of entertainment he'd booked.

"How do we know which one's him?" Dean spun around so that he could still keep his brother in his line of sight as he talked.

"Dean, it's a surprise party for him. Somehow, I don't think it'll be hard to figure out." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother before disappearing back into the kitchen for some last minute preparations. This party would be fairly interesting.

* * *

"Alright, everyone quiet!" Lestrade hushed the party goers who all settled down into harsh whispers in the dark dining area. Dean arranged some more chicken on a plate as he listened out to the other room. He supposed Sherlock must have been arriving. He ran his rag slowly over the rim of a cup, just listening.

"Surprise!" Everyone called out at once. There was some general applause and laughter while Dean moved to take the chicken out to the party goers. A generally unimpressed looking dark haired man was standing in the doorway. Dean assumed from the obviously superior expression on his face that he was Sherlock. People moved all around the dark haired man, clapping him on the shoulder and talking to him.

Sam materialized behind his brother. "That him?" He asked shortly, sizing up the shorter man.

"Yeah, that's him." Dean affirmed. As the platter full of food dropped onto the counter, instantly half of the chicken disappeared. "Guess who isn't that bad of a cook, Sammy?" Dean winked at his little brother who made a face. "Come on." Dean led his brother into the throng of people swarming around the man.

Dean caught him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the center of attention. No one seemed to mind. They all went back to their previous conversations. "I assume you're friends of Molly's and the owners of this establishment." Sherlock observed, looking the two up and down. Dean gave him a briefly puzzled look, wondering how he could have known that before Sam interrupted.

"Maybe we could talk in the kitchen." The three squeezed back through the crowd. The noise level dropped once they entered the kitchen. "Alright, we want to know why you're being such a dick." Sam demanded, crossing his arms. Even with his sloppy kitchen apron and hair slightly disheveled on one side, he still looked extremely dangerous. It could have been that he was a monster of a man, towering above the other two. Or it could have been that he was defending a life long friend.

"I assume you're referring to Molly." Sherlock hadn't even wanted to come to this stupid thing. Only at the word of his friend, John, had he agreed to come. He had figured out weeks ago that they were planning this, of course. But that was to be expected. They didn't really care that he knew, only that they got a chance to party.

"Okay, that's enough." Dean threw down his own apron. "Listen here, asshat, you've been a dick to Molly for years and now she's getting herself drunk at night. Now, I don't know about you but I don't think Molly is the type to turn alcoholic. You need to stop whatever stupid game you're playing right now otherwise the next conversation we have won't be so friendly. Capiche?"

Sherlock looked the two men up and down, filing away information automatically. To the outsider, he was simply assessing whether or not they would be able to do what they said. But Sherlock was so much more clever than that. He could read their life stories. He started with Sam.

Younger brother. Little to no self esteem. Addicted to something in the past, drugs perhaps? Most likely. Looks up to his older brother, Dean. Spends a lot of time on the computer. Lost family members and girlfriend(s?). Violent deaths. Wouldn't much care if he died tomorrow. Independent of others except for older brother.

Dean. Drinker. Excessively. Family members also lost. No self esteem, same as brother. Protective of little brother. Watches porn. Eats a lot, possibly an indicator of depression. Wouldn't mind dying tomorrow. Loves deeply. Loyal. Buries fears, worries and griefs instead of facing them. Dangerously codependent on little brother.

Altogether? Dangerous pair of brothers with nothing to lose except each other. Seen a lot of the bad side of the world. Would do anything for each other, including die. Both smart, both strong, both deadly. Not people to mess with.

"Sherlock Holmes." He introduced himself, extending his hand. Dean exchanged a confused glance with Sam before they each took his hand and shook it.

"Dean Winchester. My brother, Sam." Dean looked a little wary that his warning wasn't acknowledged. Sam said nothing, deferring to his older brother in this situation.

"Pleasure." Sherlock swept from the kitchen, truly meaning it. It was rare that he got to assess colorful individuals. Also, in a tight spot they would be fantastic allies. A pair of dangerous brothers would be good to have around. However, he didn't need them at the moment. So, he went to seek out the company of his friend, John.

"Wait, so did he agree not to be a jerk anymore?" Dean turned back to his brother after watching Sherlock disappear into the crowd that was at least twice as large as Lestrade had anticipated. It was a good thing that Dean had prepared extra chicken. Sam shrugged at his brother's question, unsure of what had just transpired.

"Hand me the chicken." Sam dropped the platter into his brother's hand. Dean moved out into the crowd, serving up the slices of chicken to the crowd. Sam grinned as he watched his brother stop in front of a beautiful but dangerous looking woman. She didn't look remotely interested in him, but Dean kept pursuing her. When she glanced away, Dean winked at Sammy who shook his head, still smirking.

Sam picked up a rag and began cleaning off the messy counter. Dean was never good at cleaning up after himself. That's why Sam didn't usually let him use the kitchen. Sam grimaced as he found a horse-shoe among the plastic wrappings. Where in the hell did Dean get a horse-shoe?

"Sam?" Sam spun around at the mention of his name. Molly Hooper was in the doorway, staring down in confusion at the horseshoe in his hand. Sam looked down at it before placing it back on the counter behind him. Molly glanced at it once more before collecting herself and looking back up at the Winchester.

"Hey, Molly. What's up?" Sam wondered.

"Did I just see you talking to Sherlock?" Oh boy. Sam didn't really feel like being the one to tell Molly that he had been scolding Sherlock about being an ass to her. His brain raced for some excuse to fill the gap.

"We were just introducing ourselves. You know, we wanted to know who we're hosting." Good, that was good. Well done, Sam. He mentally patted himself on the back.

"Oh, that's nice. So, what do you think?" She leaned back against the counter, her arms folding as she stared at her shoes.

"He's a little strange. Doesn't seem to like talking much." Sam observed. Molly chuckled.

"Depends on who he's talking to. Sometime I can't get him to shut up. Then other times he doesn't talk for days. He's an interesting man." Molly's eyes were distant as she thought of her coworker. Sam's heart hurt for her, seeing how much she really liked this guy who obviously didn't care for any form of a relationship.

"Yeah he is." Sam said, trying to keep back the flow of sympathy inside of him.

"I think I'll go and talk to Greg now. He keeps saying about his wife. I think he just really needs to talk."

"Yeah, right. You go." Sam smiled and the one he received from Molly was dazzling. Molly's smile had a way of lighting up the darkest rooms. She kind of ducked her head in a humble way before disappearing out into the crowd. Sam sighed, tossing down his rag and cradling his forehead in his hand. Molly Hooper. If she wanted, she could have the perfect boyfriend, someone sweet and attentive and perfect for her. Instead she elected to chase after this man who seemed to be made of stone.

Dean's head peeked around the corner of the doorway, an idiotic grin plastered all over his face. "Dude, you've gotta get out here. They hired a stripper and she's all over Sherlock. Dude's got no idea what to do. You've gotta see this!" Dean's tongue poked between his teeth, his face elated. Sam chuckled before throwing a dishrag at him.

What a dork.


End file.
